Let Me Save You
by letmesaveyou-clara
Summary: When Clara Oswald is an 18-year-old in District 6. It's her last year to be chosen. But the odds aren't in her favor as she is thrown into a battle hungry arena to test her morals and friendship.
1. Reaping

**Hey guys it's Mary! I am starting a fanfic that's whouffle deep! Message me: clarasouffly , if you have anything you need to say! Hope you like Chapter 1! This is an AU universe that is Hunger Games!**

Clara woke to a dark room. The curtains were pulled, so it was still night, but that didn't matter. She had always been a sort of early riser, and this morning she had tried to close her eyes, but they always forced open. She hadn't gotten any sleep yet, but she believed hardly any people in her town got any sleep. Clara had just turned eighteen, and she was hardly pulled into it. Today was the day where Clara had a chance to be chosen. Today was the day that one child would be chosen to go into an arena and kill others. Clara shut her eyes and hugged her blankets, trying to erase the thought of killing people. But she couldn't be chosen, that was practically impossible – but Clara was well known for being impossible. People at school called her the Impossible Girl.

Clara tried to stop her mind from endlessly ticking at the thought of killing other people, and even someone from her District. She just had to get through the day. If she could get through the reaping than everything would be fine – she would be ok. She got up and went to her mirror, inspecting herself, trying to make of what she thought of her image in the dark glass. She wasn't at all tall, and her nose was stubbed – at least that's what her dad called it. She had a childish sort of figure for being the age of eighteen, yet her mother told her she would blossom into a women before she knew it. Her mother always saw the best in everyone, she never looked to the falser side of a human being, it was a trait Clara wished she had. But Clara was quite stubborn and rough, she believed in what she believed in and was fearless in her attempt to make it known. She got that from her father Dave. A creak in the board was message that someone was at the door. Their house they resided in wasn't exactly well made, the floorboards of wood creaked with every step, and when a storm came buckets were placed in fear of flooding the home. But every night they found enough food on the table and they were able to keep warm, so that was enough for the Oswalds'.

Clara smiled as her mother came into the room, lighting the candles on Clara's dresserstables. Her taller and softer face stood next to her in the mirror, scanning her daughter. Clara felt merely like a plain sheet of white paper as she stood next to her beautiful mother. She looked like a simply elegant woman when all she wore was a yellow dress and a white apron. She began to play with Clara's hair, "Well, your last year love." She said quietly in her daughter ear. "Let's make it through today."

Clara's mother was a master of beauty. Slowly Clara transformed from a tired 18-year-old, to a gorgeous young woman. Her hair was perfectly straight as it pulled back into a sort of bun with twist and curls. Her deep brown eyes were sharp and daring, fit to her personality. Her face was more clean than she had seen it in a long time, since she worked at the trains station, she often tripped as she fell off the trains and dusted herself off, and never had time to make herself pretty.

Yet on the reaping day all the girls looked their best and likewise the boys, it was sickening to Clara's stomach, but she couldn't do anything about it. President Snow had created the Hunger Games as they called it, and he enjoyed watching people squirm under what he created. It was newer; when he was elected he decided to create this torturous event. Each year Clara's names were put in, and as she held her breath, she was never called. But this year her knot in her stomach was tighter than usual, and everything felt more at stake.

Her mother pulled out a satin dark blue dress that was classy for Clara and complimenting to every feature she had. "I made it for you." Her mother said, smiling with a tear in her eye.

She knew it was time to hug Clara, for there was a chance it could be a goodbye.

Clara was apart of district 6; Transportation. She worked at the train station herself since they preferred youth to work there since they were more able. Clara's job was to jump off of the trains and repair damage or make sure all was safe. She shared this job with two other boys, Clara was the only girl brave enough to take on the job. One was Evans, whom she didn't associate with much, the other was her best and only friend John. John was a tall boy with a funny chin that Clara called him out on and small eyes and hardly any eyebrows at all, his hair was flopped to a side and dirt brown. Though his name was John, she never called him that – he was fantastic with healing, and he had saved her many times from either falling off the train or breaking a bone or healing a cut. So she always called him the Doctor.

Clara had to take the train to the reaping ceremony since she was one of the more poor people of the smaller district – so did the Doctor. When she hopped onto the train she had let her foot slip, forgetting she was wearing fancier shoes and began to fall off.

A hand suddenly fell upon her side, pulling her up to the cart. "The games haven't even started and you're already about to die." The voice said, she didn't need to even think about it, for it was the Doctor, saving her again. "One day I will save you." She said with a nod as she made her way to the train. He nodded with a laugh and said quietly, "Our last year – you ready?"

Clara shrugged, avoiding showing him any fear at all, "As ready as I can be."

Clara and the Doctor were quickly separated, and their eyes locked together when everyone was finally in place. It was silent as the hand of the woman rolled around the glass bowl of the boys' names – they decided to try something different for 'fun'. Clara looked at the Doctor, trying to stop herself from shaking, something felt so terrifying to her, this reaping seemed so real to her now. The Doctor's eyes showed his wanting to hold her – she could feel from far away that he just wanted this to be over so they could run to her house and sit by the fire and talk for hours.

"The boy chosen in District 6 of the 25th annual Hunger Games is.."

Every hair on Clara was sticking up.

"John Smith."

Her eyes shot open, looking at him, who had the same expression back. She could see him swallow; she could see she was loosing her best friend – just in this moment. She watched him, shaking now more than ever as he walked up.

"Now the girls."

Clara couldn't stop thinking about the Doctor. She imagined him having to kill others, innocent people, he was always so kind and quirky. She shook in fear of who he would have to kill from this district to come home to her.

"And our lady is.."

Clara didn't blink as she stared deep into the eyes of the Doctor.

"Clara Oswald."

Her. He would have to kill her.


	2. Breaking at the Seams

**Thank you guys for your positive reactions to my first chapter! That one was more of an introduction – this is the beginning of the real drama! Lots of love! – Mary (clarasouffly)**

Clara stood there with open eyes, still staring at the Doctor. She was practically unable to move. He was visibly shaking, that tender boy who couldn't kill a spider, could have to kill her. Clara felt a nudge on her weak back bone and let the shove be her push to walk. She slowly made her way to the stage in front. Everyone moved aside for her, so she made no contact with anyone's bodies. She could hear the whispers of the girls around her, "Oh Clara, she was so sweet." And, "She didn't do anything to deserve this."

They all looked upon Clara like she was already dead, in their eyes that she looked at, trying to find anyone to help her, but they already saw her grave. For only one person had ever one from District Six. They were the second smallest amount of winners; District Twelve had none.

Clara finally found the stairs and began to walk up it. She only now realized how hot it was, and how much she was shaking. For any of the people that she would be thrown with that were competitive, she was now easy, she was the easiest target, and she wouldn't let that happen. Clara wasn't picturing her grave, not yet.

As she walked over to the woman that had done the announcing every year, her name was Daley Cybes, Clara finally stopped herself from shaking. She did not look at the Doctor, for if she did anyone watching would see that they're close, and vulnerable. Instead Clara stared at the camera – sending out a warning with her eyes, that she was coming home to her family, and somehow, the Doctor was coming with her.

Clara's hand was grabbed, along with the Doctor's and arms were raised. Clara's jaw was clenched as people cheered her on. They cheered on the dead lovely girl they once loved, and her dead best friend.

Clara sat in a small room with grey walls. She didn't look at The Doctor, she couldn't. An officer shoved her, but when she looked into his eyes, he was not at all like she imagined. They were a misty green, and instead of any anger, the only expression was sorry. She nodded her head and mouthed, "_thank you." _Not letting it at all be audible. Behind the black, plastic cover over his mouth she saw a small smile, and then he was gone. She wondered if he had ever heard someone thank him. Clara sat at the chair and tapped her foot nervously, trying to think of good things, anything good. She thought of the time the Doctor saw her fall from a tree, since she loved to try to be dangerous. He had run over to his little Clara, of about age six. He scooped her in his arms and cradled her. Ever since they were little he was always much taller and somehow able to carry her, although he looked scrawny. And Clara throughout all her time was a small little girl, with a silly nose. The Doctor had held her, and told her stories until she had stopped crying. She had her arms around him as he cradled her.

"How did you know I would fall?" Clara asked lifting her head with tears drying at last. The Doctor took her small child hand and kissed it with a smile, "You're my Clara, and I will always save you."

But now the Doctor couldn't save her. The Doctor wasn't just important in Clara's life, but the whole district. He was by far the smartest person her district had ever known, and he was the only medical doctor. At the age of 19 he was going to open an office to heal all of the clumsy people like Clara.

And what was Clara going to do when she was 19? She had wanted to travel, so she would run the trains to different districts so she could see them all, and she would live with the Doctor. That was always their plan.

But who was needed more, a Doctor, or a train runner.

Clara was not giving up with the games, but she wasn't motivated to win, she was motivated to save the Doctor.

The door of steal swung open and the kind guard let her parents in, pretending to be stern his voice said, "One minute." Cracking when her mother shook with tears and fear. Clara nodded her head, silently thanking him again. And then he was gone.

Clara's mother embraced her; tears were already flowing. "My Clara – I – I am so sorry." Her mother stumbled out. She clutched onto Clara, grasping her shoulders as hard as she could, as if she did this it would keep Clara with her. Suddenly tears were in her mother's eyes when finally she released her. Clara hadn't ever seen the tender woman cry. She was trying to be strong and graceful, for Clara, but she only shook with fear of loosing her daughter. Then her father embraced her. He was always such a tough man, but now his voice cracked at the seams as he only let out, "My Clara."

"Don't give up, you're fast." Her mom stumbled, shaking and quivering from the tears that were rolling down her cheeks quickly. Watching her parents made her insides churn with fear, fear of loosing them, leaving them all alone. "You can jump, and you're so clever." Her mother finished, now unable to speak. It was as if the tears had become her. Clara shook trying not to cry and only nodding, with pursed lips and red eyes.

The door opened, and apologetically the man took her parents away. Her moms eyes were staring at Clara until the door closed, taking a mental image of her when she wasn't twisted by the capital, for this was the last time she'd she Clara as she was, and as she was raised to be.

"It's time." The man said after a few minutes that Clara had to sit and finally be vulnerable, finally cry. For some reason she didn't mind crying in front of the boy she saw. He brought her outside, and there she saw the Doctor. Both his parents were dead; he had been an orphan for a long time. There was no one to say goodbye to him. He hated goodbyes though, she knew that about him, he hated any sort of ending and refused to believe in them. When he saw Clara, who was trying as quickly as possible to cover her act of vulnerability he took her hand immediately, squeezing it tight. He always held her when she was scared, but now she had to be the strong one, she had to save him. He kissed her hand before they were sent outside, then they had to play it off as if they weren't the best of friends, and as if the thought of loosing the other wasn't painful. He took her into a hug and whispered quietly, "I am not going to fight you, I am not going to loose you." She sighed, letting his words sink in. But she didn't speak, for she knew if she dead, she would collapse into a million vulnerable pieces for all of the others to pick up and kill her with. She needed strength. They parted and nodded to each other, ready to face their fate. The doors opened with a creek, they were to meet their trainer – the only one from their district to live from the hunger games. The man turned around and faced them, his smile was bright as he stared at both of them, but his eyes were cold and strict.

"Hello mates, the name is Mickey, Mickey Smith."


	3. Don't Fall In Love

**WOAH! You guys I woke up to a bunch more followers – that means so freaking much you have no idea! So just wow thanks, glad you all like it! As you can see I am using a lot of character from the Who-niverse in this! So more will be coming soon! And sorry it took so long, I had confirmation!**

**Mary (clarasouffly)**

"Mickey Smith?" The Doctor asked, practically pouncing off of the stairs and beginning to circle the man. He was really trying to keep a nice face on, but the Doctor had invaded his personal space for a while now. Mickey began to clench his jaw and crack his fingers, beginning to look up at Clara as the Doctor inspected him. "Does he do this often?" The man asked with a thick sort of accent. His nose was scrunched up and his face had an unpleasant look to it. Clara covered her mouth a little so she could laugh without already upsetting her mentor, "Yea, he does." The Doctor finally took a step back and raised his chin up to the hot sun, sticking out his hand to the man who was a little shorter than him. "Pleased to meet you Mickey, I am John Smith." Mickey stared at the hand of the Doctor and then looked him up and down. He was balancing from his toes to his heels with a long, narrow grin. Mickey had rolled his eyes, looking away from the child that seemed much older than the age of eighteen and walked over to the train that awaited them. The Doctor frowned from his denial and followed behind Mickey. Clara knew about this. It was what they took them in. If they entered, it was the beginning of her transformation. She wouldn't be Clara from District Six anymore, she wouldn't be that girl at the edge of the street that was brave and baked soufflés. She wouldn't be the girl that was loving, but also strong.

She would be a toy, something that the Capitol twisted and created for their own amusement. She looked at Mickey, he had made it, that scared Clara. How many people did he have to kill? How many times did he see the light go from someone's eyes?

"Clara?" The Doctor said, holding out his hand for her, waiting for her to take it. She looked around, taking a mental image of this place for the last time. She looked at him, her big, round eyes were vulnerable, showing her fear. And the Doctor took her hand and kissed it, like he used to. "Come on."

Inside the train it was the most luxurious place both Clara and the Doctor had ever seen. Food that look unbelievably delicious, and Clara had only realized then how this day had made her hungry. The curtains were materials she hadn't ever seen or touched and the table was made of something beautiful. She tapped her finger on it and the Doctor saw her eyes onto the table. "That's mahogany.. I think." He said pointing his finger in the air, as if directing someone. Clara smiled and nodded. She sat down and took an apple from the table, examining it, with a growling stomach. She immediately began to eat anything on the table that looked edible, for the finest food she had ever had was a soufflé, made by her.

"Eat up – Today is gonna be a long one kiddies." Mickey said, plopping himself onto the couch. Clara looked up at the Doctor who sat across from her, uneasy and looking outside, as if he was searching for something. Clara swallowed a bit and looked over at Mickey. "Would you mind?" She asked tipping her head to the Doctor, who now also looked at her. "We need to talk." She said, now pointing her vision to the Doctor. Mickey's face widen, along with his eyes as he began to pull himself up like a drunkard. He turned before leaving and pointed his finger at them, "Are you two.." He began to smile in a way that sent the message. Clara began to shake her head vigorously, "No, no – no" But her no's were matched with the Doctor's voice replying, "Well, yes, yes we" Both of them stopped and stared at each other. The Doctor's face was crossed and upset. Mickey laughed and excited the door, leaving the room silent.

Only the train made sounds, the wheels hitting the rails, bouncing at times. Clara looked down at her plate. "Guess we never did discuss our.. feelings." She said. Now she was vulnerable. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't build walls with the Doctor, he was the only one who could tear her walls down.

"Oh yes we have." He said with a happy tone. Clara shot up her head with wide eyes and an open mouth. "No! Don't bring that up, please!" She said slapping him playfully on the arm. He tried lifting a finger, but Clara pushed it down as he began, "You told me you weren't pretty, and I said you were beautiful, and you asked me to marry you," The Doctor stopped fidgeting and began to smile in remembrance, "And I said yes." Clara tipped her head down, sort of embraced that he remembered the scene so well. "Silly children I guess." Clara said picking up her shoulders like a burden, because shrugging the subject off wasn't easy. Every day when she stared up at the chin and those small eyes she had to force herself not to fall in love with him. That was the hardest part, the trick, not to fall in love with the boy. And now more than ever she couldn't fall in love with him. She never dawned on the idea for too long in fear she would discover something that was hidden deep in her soul. She was scared to find the explanation for why she smiled whenever he came around.

"Well, were not children now." He said, scooting himself towards her, slowly and secretly, trying to keep it hidden from her. But she was clever and caught his movement, which impulsively made her stand in her fear of intimacy. She paced the sort of hallway sized area and finally stood opposite of the room from the Doctor staring out the window, watching the cart just move along, trying to find the capitol. How would it all begin, Greetings at the entrance? Cameras flashing in their poor and dirty faces, questions of their tactics. Clara's mind began to roam off; she hadn't even noticed that she was shaking until the hands of the Doctor were on her shoulders, trying to sooth her as he always did. She winced at his touch and spun around, looking at the floor. "You can't do this, I can't – we can't." She looked down still, at his shoes. If she looked into his eyes, who could say what she would do. She needed him to hold her and kiss her head like he always did when she was lost. But now, she couldn't. She had no intentions to harm him in the games, she didn't view him as competition, she never would. She viewed him as her goal. It was her goal to get him out alive, she would sacrifice herself for him. But she couldn't admit to loving him, not now. If she did she would be too vulnerable, and she couldn't let the Doctor love her.

He touched her cheek, trying to understand her mystery, trying to understand what mess was running through her head. "Clara, you're not going to die." He said quietly. His tone was darker now, and it shocked Clara, forcing herself to look up. She saw his eyes that were usually full of life and energy they were now cold. It was as if he was now murdering all of the people that they hadn't even met, he was imagining their deaths it looked like.

Clara was now the one to being the physical contact. She touched the fabric of his blue shirt, trying to bring the cheery boy back. He looked into her eyes, and he was magically a different man. It was like the touch of Clara took away the darkest ideas running through his veins. "Doctor." She said in a calming tone, her lips slowly projecting his name. "I am going to get you out alive."

He shook his head quickly, taking a step closer to her, but now Clara had nowhere to run. "But you're coming with me." He was pleading her, as if this was even a possibility. She laughed at that, she began to laugh at everything, how insane this all was. How insane the thought of murdering others was. But the laugh turned into a tear, which left the room silent like before. "Clara, if I survive, and you don't – I wont have anything to live for – I'd be better off dead." He whispered these words, as if he didn't want Clara to hear his confession, but she heard it. Her heart shattered at his words. He made it sound like her living without him would be any easier, he was the only one she'd ever been true to, and the only one she'd ever possibly love, but now it was impossible.

He opened his mouth to say more, but she held up her small palm, to stop anymore words, she was tired of talking, for the games were more than this – there was luck and strategy, and she needed no more of the games for today. The Doctor closed his mouth with a nod, and then put his palm to Clara's. The touch, of his skin to hers was electrifying. It was her skin feeling like a gust of wind took her over, and his eyes were looking at her, so loving and gentle. Their fingers intertwined together, gripping each other for dear life. It was as if they were secretly saying what they weren't brave enough to confess aloud. She finally put her face to his chest, the warm chest with a drum for a heart. His arms enclosed around her small body, shielding her from anymore pain for the day, stroking her hair that was falling out of it's tiny bun, and kissing her forehead.

_I will save you. _Clara thought.

_I will save you. _The Doctor thought.


	4. Make Them Pay

**So I couldn't go on last night because I went and saw the Hunger Games and It was SO AMAZING! So this chapter is late and I apologize – thanks for your feedback it means so much!**

If Clara had ever felt any sort of discomfort in her body and bones, if she had ever felt so misplaced and lost, it was nothing compared to now. She stepped out of the train, holding Mickey's hand as he used it to lead her down the staircases. This act made her look delicate, she noted that. While she did need to set up a warning that she wasn't an easy target, she did, however, want to make them not note her. She wanted to stay away from any ones vision for as long as she could, she would train and train, make sure she had any skills she could possibly need, when the rankings came she would shoot for something high, and then, that was the moment people would notice her, that was when Clara would take her mark. She looked to the Doctor, he wasn't like Clara, she couldn't even stomach the thought of him even considering to murder anyone at all, yet the more Clara thought about it herself, the more she felt willing to do whatever it took to keep him safe. He was going home, she was to make sure of that.

As Clara reached the ground, the pavement was much smoother than that of District Six, and her ankles twisted on her high heels, not being adjusted to such a nicely made surface, she knew where she was, it was clear to her now. She was in the capitol. From the people standing around her, hair of the most unnatural clothes along with anything else on their body to the smell of the place. It was something sweeter than she had ever known, though the gas of an engine wasn't hard to compete with. She tried to do as Mickey had told them before he opened the doors of the train – their first assignment of staying alive.

"Those people out there not only want to know everything about you, but they want to know more about you than you yourself. They will make you feel like they've known you for years, it's terribly uncomfortable, but it's a game, and you two are the pieces of the game, you play as they draw the cards." Mickey had said these words as if they were now a monologue to him. How many times did he have to say this? How long ago had he won? Clara had guessed he was in his beginnings of his thirties, so it had been long enough for him to try to find out how to keep these people alive, Clara felt pressure now, that if she failed to save the Doctor she could damage Mickey more than he already was. He was a good fake, pretending that he didn't care. You could see in his dark eyes, hardly darker than his skin, that he was trying so hard to convince himself he was supposed to treat being reaped as an honor. But she knew he had watched the bloodbath first hand. She knew he felt so many things about the hunger games, but seeing them as an honor wasn't one of them.

Just as Clara had prepared to open the door he closed it shut with his hand, practically gripping at the steal. He looked at the corners of the cart, and it took Clara mere moments to realize he was checking for cameras.

"They want to drain you, they want your weakness and they want you to see the games as they do. Show them you're not like that – Show them you believe in something else." He looked across from Clara and the Doctor, as if he was studying something. Clara had only then remembered how natural it was for her and the Doctor to stand so close, their skin was so natural in it's contact that when Clara stepped away from Mickey's eyes seeing the small gap, she felt the gravity try to pull her back to the skin of the Doctor, the only place she felt even merely safe.

"You could use that to your advantage." He said silently. Before Clara could even process his meaning he opened the doors and smiled, it was like looking at another man. He greeted the people with cameras that flashed in her eyes, taking hard proof photos of the fact that she was training to kill. She watched as Mickey talked to many reporters, she couldn't make out a word, but she wasn't looking for words. She was looking for how Mickey, a man so broken and lost, so stern from what he had seen, had turned into this man that discussed the hunger games as if it were racing horses or something, and nothing more.

The Doctor seemed much better at making people like him. Clara noticed his smile and extreme hand shaking, he informed them that he wished to make his district proud, which was not a lie, but he didn't mean it in the way they thought. Clara tried to be as open to the people that seemed closer to her face than she was used to. She informed them simply that she followed the capitols. She choked on all of her words, making the cameraman walk away saying the tape was useless for her mumbling.

After time had passed suddenly Mickey grabbed both the Doctor and Clara's arms quickly, bringing them into the building that lay across from the train tracks. As the giant doors that Mickey pushed open with his foot finally shut behind them, Clara and the Doctor observed their finer surroundings.

Clara had only seen images of the kind of rooms they had in the capitol, and even those could not do justice of all the jewels that hung from ceilings and lights, all the soft cloths that were carelessly laid around the room in patterns of such. Clara's mouths hung open much as the Doctors, taking in whatever curse they had entered.

"Welcome, welcome, to hell." Mickey said repeating the awful voices of the woman who had announced their names. Mickey sat down at the long table that could fit a whole district, but only had three people sitting at it. Clara sat down across from Mickey, who tossed his foot onto the white table clothes, still as if all of this was more a daily routine than anything. The Doctor took a seat next to Clara, touching her hand subtly, checking that she wasn't shaking anymore. He needed her to be safe and sane for him. He couldn't watch the games change her, not Clara.

"You two kiddios have been misfortunately chosen to kill other children." He went on after his long pause. Some words were so deep with an unknown accent it took Clara longer to decipher his words. "The odds are not in your favor." He said loudly, as if he wanted the capitol to hear him, but not loud enough for them to really hear him.

"What is this place?" Clara finally asked, tired of being told things she already knew. She needed training and answers before an obituary speech.

"Your 'home away from home' training homes until it's time to go to the arena." He said in a calmer tone. Clara nodded and it was silent as they sat. All were too disgusted of horrifying thoughts to even pick up food. Clara looked down at the shiny plate that stared back at her with a distorted image, it certainly felt right to Clara's mood.

"What is your skill?" Mickey finally asked. His hands ran through his nonexistent hair, as if it was once a calming ritual. The Doctor lifted his head, finally the one to speak.

"I can.. ooh.. I can – well I am logical, medically able to do anything and can shoot a gun if needed." He added, tossing and apple in the air without a glance at it ever to eat it. "I am sort of fast, but she's faster." He said nudging Clara next to him, who felt a blush in her small cheeks. "And I am sort of strong." He concluded extremely unsure by his lack of abilities. Mickey merely turned his head to Clara and she understood he wanted her skills as well. She cleared her throat, imagining her accomplishments and if any could be twisted enough to call a talent. "Well, I can jump, I have good hands and I am terribly fast."

"No need to be modest." Mickey said with a satisfied smile, he enjoyed her spunk and bravery, he could feel the highest of hopes for a possible victor this year.

"-Ha." Clara continued, "I can cook soufflés, don't know if that'd come in handy and I can shoot any weapon you hand me well enough, but my hands are my best defense." She finished now looking at the horrible heels that had worn in a day. She was bragging about her possible ways to kill someone. It all felt wrong, Snow claimed it was human nature, but it felt more like a murder game.

Mickey nodded, considering usages for the things they provided.

Before he could suggest any training techniques the door opened and three men followed a guard, much larger and grungier looking than the one back at home.

"Stylists are here." He said with the lowest voice Clara had ever heard, even the Doctor seemed shocked, which wasn't terribly often. Clara was noting that one man looked very much like he was from the capitol, green hair, purple lips and an outfit of the most uncomfortable and unordinary sorts. But the man standing next to him was wearing a simple suit with shimmering gold on the rims of the sleeves, brown hair and the biggest smile Clara had ever seen.

The guard pointed her towards the man that looked more normal, and she thanked God for the first good thing that day. They walked down two halls before going into a room. He told her in a commercial voice that certainly belonged to the capitol that she could sit on the white bed. He turned away from her for a moment, and finally looked back when the door clicked closed.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. He and Mickey seemed to be the only ones in the area of hunger games who didn't see this all as an honor. Clara only nodded at his words, feeling her lips running dry in the moment.

"Jack Harkness, pleasure." He held out his hand that was much whiter than Clara's but somehow much more stronger and toned than her working hands. "You're gorgeous kid." He said stepping back, smiling at the brunette childlike figure with giant eyes that pleaded to go home. He saw that pleading and walked towards her, hugging her in a warm embrace. Already she felt herself let him get to know her, the silent parts of her. He stepped back and flipped through the book on the table, and Clara found the will to speak, "I suppose you're going to make me pretty?" She said quietly, as if it was stupid to look pretty on your way to death. He closed the book and shook his head, repeating the words no as he kicked his leg around the stool to be intimate with her. "I am here to make sure you live my dear." He kissed her small cheek that was naturally red. His eyes that were so colorful and different were now more serious as he whispered, "We will make them regret they day they decided to put Clara and John in the hunger games."

Clara nodded, somehow finding comfort in the thought of making them pay for all the pain she would have. If she was to die, she wanted to be remembered, and she wanted to fight.

"Trust me Clara."

"I do, Jack."

With a twistedly handsome grin he nodded, "Let's get started."


End file.
